


darklands

by gothyringwald



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Angst with a Happy Ending, Developing Relationship, Enemies With Benefits, Explicit Sexual Content, First Kiss, Gang Violence, Gangs, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Past Character Death, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-03-06 23:53:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13422288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothyringwald/pseuds/gothyringwald
Summary: When the world ends, in 1984, it doesn't happen the way anyone had thought it would. No disasters, no explosions, no warning. Instead, there is only the swift unexplainable death of everyone over twenty one. After that, all across the States, towns begin falling to the rule of the street gangs.In Hawkins, Indiana, Steve Harrington and Billy Hargrove are the leaders of two opposing gangs. Steve hates Billy and the feeling is mutual. But when The Demogorgons, the most brutal gang in the country, roll into town, Steve realises he's going to need help to keep Hawkins out of their hands.





	1. the world's edge

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this idea for just over a month, now, and I didn't think I'd want to write an AU for these two, yet, but this one really got its hooks in me. I got the idea while watching The Warriors but it doesn't follow that plot and I've got several points of reference for inspiration.
> 
> Rating and tags subject to change. (Rating is for fic as a whole/future chapters).
> 
> As this is set at the end of 1985 I’m going to go ahead and say both Billy & Steve are now over 18. 
> 
> Title is from the Jesus and Mary Chain song of the same name.
> 
> Bits and bobs:
> 
> ♡ [Edit/moodboard for the fic on tumblr](http://gothyringwald.tumblr.com/post/169901724895/darklands-a-harringrove-au-when-the-world)  
> ♡ [playlist/soundtrack](http://gothyringwald.tumblr.com/post/176244703247/darklands-a-harringrove-au-spotify-8tracks)  
> ♡ [pinterest board](https://www.pinterest.com.au/gothyringwald/fic-darklands/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank-you to [ficsandfuckery](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficsandfuckery/pseuds/ficsandfuckery) and [manskinpants](https://archiveofourown.org/users/manskinpants/pseuds/manskinpants) for looking this over/cheerleading/etc. I would never have posted this without you, I'm sure.
> 
> Chapter title is a phrase/line in the song Some Weird Sin by Iggy Pop

December, Year 0 (1985 AD)

The air is thick, smells a little sour this far out of town. It's cold, too, which was never unusual for Indiana in December. But, now, it's colder than it ever was before. It doesn't snow, anymore, but it's _bitterly_ cold.

Steve flicks the end of his cigarette, one arm folded around his waist. The tree at his back is rough even through layers of jacket and sweatshirt and thermal. He's got one knee bent, foot braced on the tree trunk, head tilted back. He's waiting, has been waiting longer than he's comfortable with. Especially in the dense darkness of the woods. There is a flashlight by his feet, but he needs to conserve the batteries for the trek back to his car, later.

No one comes this far into the woods, anymore, which both eases and discomfits him. It means he won't get caught but it also means that there is no one around for help, if he needs it. The woods are neutral territory, but that doesn't count for much. He reaches for the baseball bat resting by his calf, its presence a comfort. The thought that he may have to use it, is not.

A biting wind blows past as he finishes his cigarette, squashing the butt on the trunk, before he flicks it away. It's his third in a row, and he's not usually so extravagant, but he needs it, tonight. Needs something to calm his jangled nerves, to calm the blood buzzing and fizzing through his veins. He's about to give up waiting when a small glowing orange dot, bouncing in the thick darkness, comes into view. The cherry of another cigarette. He tenses. 

Moments later the crunch of heavy boots in the undergrowth reaches his ears. Familiar footfalls, the sound he's been waiting for all night, but hearing it doesn't ease the tension in his shoulders, that sings through his entire frame. The beam of a flashlight cuts through the night, swinging carelessly, before it hits him in the face.

Steve winces, bringing his arm up to shield his eyes. The light stings.

'There you are, Harrington.'

‘Yeah, where I always am.’ Steve rolls his eyes, sighing. 'And you’re late.’

A beat of silence follows, the full force of the flashlight still shining in his face, then the light is gone. Billy shines it under his chin, now, and leers at Steve, waggling his tongue.

'Yeah, but you waited.' He winks. Steve wants to punch him. 

'Shut up,' he says and pushes off the tree, so he's standing toe to toe with Billy. The flashlight still shines between them, shooting a beam up into the canopy of skeletal trees. Steve grabs it, flings it on the ground. It throws strange shadows over them, but he can see Billy well enough. The soft curves of his cheeks offset by the angled line of his jaw, that one curl that hangs over his forehead, his blue blue eyes. He's so damn _pretty_ Steve thinks, miserably.

'You know, if you didn't want me to be late, you could tell that Wheeler bitch to stop cutting my brakes.' There is a bite in Billy's voice, now.

Steve bristles at Billy calling Nancy a bitch. He narrows his eyes. 'Yeah, well, she wouldn't have cut your brakes if Tommy hadn't tried to sabotage our gas supply.'

Billy bares his teeth. 'Do you know how long it takes to fix a brake line, these days?'

Steve snorts. 'Are you gonna just stand there and bitch all night, or what?' he asks, hands on his hips.

Billy's snarl morphs into a smirk, and he fists a hand in Steve's sweatshirt, pushing him back up against the tree.

'This what you want, Harrington?'

'Yeah,' says Steve, a little breathless, as Billy slots a leg between his. He feels hot all over, any thoughts of cold air instantly vanishing.

This thing they have is stupid and dangerous, Steve knows. Billy could kill him—nearly did, once, though Steve gave almost as good as he got—but Steve can't stay away. Every time he leaves he tells himself no more, he doesn't need this—whatever this is—but he keeps coming back. And so does Billy.

Steve rolls his hips up with intent, snakes his arms around Billy's waist, under his leather vest, under the sweatshirt with its sleeves cut off. Hands spread over warm skin. He pulls Billy flush against him, and Billy braces his hands on the tree, arms bracketing Steve's face. It's been a few weeks since they could both get away and Steve has missed this, missed the weight of Billy's body pressed along his. And doesn't that just rankle, to miss anything about Billy Hargrove. Billy brings a hand down to Steve's neck, unties the red bandana around it, tucking it into Steve's back pocket.

They don't kiss—they never do, though sometimes Steve wishes they did, and hates himself for it—but Billy licks a stripe up Steve's now exposed neck, stopping just behind his ear. 

Steve shivers but he fixes his face into a grimace. 'Ugh, you're gross. You know I hate that,' he says.

Billy laughs, low and warm in his ear. He slides a hand between them, palming Steve through his jeans and says, 'You sure about that?'

Steve ignores him, slides his own hands down Billy's back and into the pockets of his tight blue jeans. He grabs, hard. Billy grunts. Steve rolls his hips up, again, grinding against Billy, shifting until their cocks align.

'Fuck,' Billy bites out then he bites down on the juncture of Steve's neck and shoulder.

Steve throws his head back without thinking, spurring Billy to trail more biting, bruising kisses along the line of his neck.

'Fuck,' Steve says, echoing Billy, and then, 'Don't leave any marks, asshole.'

Billy snorts. 'Why not? You and your nerds always wear those stupid bandanas, anyway.'

Steve grits his teeth. 'Just. Don't.'

'Whatever you say, pretty boy,' Billy says but then he bites down, harder, once more. It's not that Steve doesn't like it, he _does_ , but he doesn't want to have to explain why his neck is covered in hickeys, and he doesn't want to give Billy more reason to be smug.

'I hate you,' Steve says, pushing Billy off of him, but only long enough to reverse their positions. He pins Billy's hands above his head, using the inch he has over Billy to his advantage. Billy’s pulse thrums beneath Steve's thumbs where they brush over the soft skin of his inner wrist. There’s a scar on the left one, a burn mark. Steve doesn’t know what it’s from, has never asked. 

He looks down to Billy’s mouth, thinks about kissing him again. It sets a hot feeling going in his stomach. He cuts his gaze back to Billy’s eyes, which are wide as he breathes heavily. He hasn't tried to break out of Steve's grip yet. Sometimes, he gets like this. Pliant, almost. But it's rare. Steve's cock throbs. He doesn't know if he wants to sink to his knees or push Billy down to his. He considers this a moment, then lets go of Billy's wrists, drops his hands to Billy's shoulders and pushes. Billy goes willingly but not without a cocky smirk. 

He takes Steve out of his jeans and into his mouth, fits his hands over Steve's hips, gripping hard. Nose brushing the dark curls at the base of Steve's cock, mouth slick and tight and hot.

Steve has one hand braced on the tree, bark rough under his palm, the other fisted in Billy's blond curls. He tugs and Billy makes an annoyed sound, digs his nails into Steve's hips in warning, so he doesn't try it again. He fingers the folded bandana tied around Billy's head as he thrusts into the wet heat of his mouth. It feels _good_. Pleasure shoots through him, threads around his spine, blistering and electric. 

Billy moans around him, lewd and mostly for show, and Steve's hips snap, harder than he'd intended. Billy pulls off, gives him a look that says ‘Do you want to piss off the guy who has your dick in his mouth?’ before he sucks him down again.

It doesn't take long for Steve to come; he's been wound up all day, anticipating this, for lack of a better word, tryst. He manages to warn Billy moments before he spills into the other boy's mouth, biting his lip on a moan. Billy spits somewhere into the darkness, and wipes his mouth off. He stands, still caught between Steve and the tree.

Steve zips up his jeans with shaking hands, body loose the way it only ever is after an orgasm. He wishes he could hold onto this feeling, would chase it to the end of the fucking world if he could. Maybe he already has. Steve runs a hand through his hair and glances up at Billy. He's just looking back at Steve, unusually quiet. It's unnerving.

In the spare glow of the flashlight, his pink lips look almost blood red, now, swollen and shining. He licks them, then raises an expectant brow at Steve, gaze flicking impatiently down to his own crotch.

Steve grabs him through his jeans, just this side of too-hard. Billy swallows, pressed back against the tree.

'Gonna sort me out, Harrington?'

'Yeah. Tit for tat, right?'

The smirk falls from Billy's face as Steve deftly undoes his jeans and curls his hand around Billy's cock. They've been doing this long enough now that Steve knows just how to twist his wrist or flick his thumb to get Billy off and quick. Another night he'd tease Billy, draw it out just to get the satisfaction of frustrating him. But he's been out too long, already, and the others will start to worry.

'Hey, fuck, slow down...' says Billy, voice wet, catching in the back of his throat. His cheeks are flushed, his face scrunches up, the way it always does, and fuck, that shouldn't look so _hot_.

Steve leans close and says, 'You. Were. Late,' and with one more stroke Billy comes. 

Steve considers wiping his hand off on Billy's sweatshirt, but settles for using the tree, instead, then zips Billy's jeans back up. 

Billy is looking up at him from under his ridiculous eyelashes, chest heaving as he comes down from his orgasm. Something unguarded, vulnerable, flashes in his eyes but it's gone as soon as Steve notices it and he can't be sure it wasn't just a trick of the light. It still rattles him, though. 

Billy pulls out a pack of cigarettes. He sticks one in his mouth, lights it, inhales. Steve plucks it from his lips, takes a drag, the smoke settling something that Billy always stirs up. Wind blows past them, rustles dead leaves, brings the scent of decay. Billy takes the cigarette back. 

Steve doesn't bother saying anything and is about to just walk away when Billy pushes off the tree. He shoulders past Steve and stoops down. He grabs something, a flask Steve thinks. He must have dropped it earlier but Steve hadn't noticed. The flashlight shines on the back of his jacket, illuminating the embroidered patch reading 'Metal Militia', before he picks it up, too, and turns it on Steve again. 

'See ya 'round, Harrington,' Billy says and then he's traipsing off into the woods. The flashlight beam recedes with him, leaving Steve in the dark. 

He groans and scrubs a hand across his face. He really fucking hates Billy Hargrove.

__

It's past midnight by the time Steve gets home, Hopper's old truck rumbling and grumbling as he pulls up to the Byers'. It will never not be Hopper's truck, never not be the Byers' house, to him, no matter how much those things are no longer true. His chest tightens. He wishes Hopper were here, that Joyce were here. Hell, that his parents were here.

Maybe if they were he wouldn't be sitting here, trying to forget the feel of Billy's mouth on him, the way Billy looks when he comes. He cuts the ignition, yanks the keys out with a little too much force. This is when he realises that he only has keys for the truck, not the house. 

'Damn it,' he says, hitting his hands on the steering wheel. His palms sting at the impact but it steadies him, if only for a moment. He sucks in a deep breath. 

He steps out of the truck, shutting the door with a thunk, and makes his way to the porch. The moon shines above, fat and yellow in the clear sky. The world keeps going, despite everything, it seems.

In his distraction, he nearly forgets the secret knock that Dustin and the other kids insist they all use. He sighs and leans his head against the door frame. It's quiet, inside, no lights on, and he hopes someone is still up. Although sleeping in the truck might be better than having to face anyone else, right now. Why did he have to forget his keys? He raps in the complicated pattern it took him months to memorise and waits. He taps his fingers against his thigh, bounces his foot.

A light goes on inside. Footsteps approach and moments later Nancy opens the door, greeting him with a tight-lipped look. She doesn't utter a word as she steps aside to let him in, but her silence is more condemning than anything she might have said.

It curdles in Steve's stomach, has him blurting, 'I had to go on a supply run. Couldn't find...um, then I had to go...' he trails off, shoulders slumping. He should have a better cover story by now. Should have _any_ cover story, after months of sneaking out to meet Billy. God, how fucked up is he, literally sleeping with the enemy. 

Nancy looks pointedly at his hands, carrying only his bat. So much for the supply run. Steve flushes, shame rattling in his sternum. Her gaze runs back up to his neck and he hopes, again, that Billy hasn't left any marks. He rubs a hand over his pulse, where not an hour ago Billy's teeth had been, and Nancy's eyes narrow. Steve gets the feeling that she knows exactly what he's been doing, if not with whom. 

'Look, Nance, I...'

She cuts him off, says, 'You're the one who says we shouldn't go out alone. Or at least not without telling anyone. We were worried.' Her cheeks colour and she bites the inside of her lip. 'Mike, Dustin and Lucas went out to find you.'

Steve swallows, thickly. He sets his bat down. 'Are they back?'

She shakes her head, ponytail swishing.

'Shit,' Steve says. 

He's about to apologise, about to ask how long they've been gone, when there is a frantic knock at the door. Steve jumps. He opens the door and Mike, Dustin and Lucas burst in, gasping for breath. They're sweating, bats, matching Steve's own, gripped tight in their fists. 

'What is it?' comes Jonathan's voice from behind Steve. The commotion must have roused him.

Steve turns to see him leaning against the wall, arms hugged around his middle. Will is by his side, rubbing his eyes, already in his pyjamas. He looks better, now, than he had three months ago. He had been sick in a way that had everyone worried, that was too similar to the illness that had taken the adults last year. Though that had been fast and this had not. But Will got better and, as far as anyone knew, no one under twenty one had died from whatever it was back then or since. But it had shaken them, all the same.

'Mike,' says El, who had emerged from the kitchen, waffle clutched in her hand, at the sound of knocking on the door. She blinks, owlishly, face settling into a frown as she takes in the dishevelled appearance of the three boys.

'What's going on?' Nancy urges, stepping closer to her brother.

Dustin, Mike and Lucas all start talking at once, an excited, indecipherable jumble of words. Too loud in the small living room.

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. He holds up a hand and they fall silent. 'One at a time.'

Mike looks to Dustin and Lucas, in turn, each of them nodding, before he says, 'The Demogorgons are coming.'

The atmosphere in the room shifts as soon as the words are spoken. Nancy gasps, hand flying to her mouth. 

Cold dread prickles up Steve's spine. The Demogorgons are the meanest, the most brutal, gang in the whole country. They've been sweeping through the midwest, toppling town after town. Recruiting anyone who will join them and obliterating everyone who won't. They wield flick-knives and pipes and chains, showing little reluctance to use them, and no remorse if they do. Steve had thought they would be safe, here, that The Demogorgons wouldn't want Hawkins. It seems he was wrong.

'Steve,' Nancy says, placing a tentative hand on his arm. Her eyes are wide, concerned, but there is steel in them. It bolsters Steve and he looks back to the three boys.

'Did you see them?'

'No, but they were spotted not far from town. Jenny, at the Outpost, told us. It won't be long until they're here,' Lucas says. He's practically vibrating, braced for something, bat still clutched tight by his side, binoculars around his neck. He rolls his shoulders, looks up at Steve. Mike and Dustin fix their gazes on him, too.

'What are we going to do?' asks Dustin.

Steve bites his lip and looks around at his gang, his _family_ , all looking back at him expectantly. There's only one thing they can do.

'Fight,' he says, the one simple word loaded with everything he can't say.

'Fight,' echoes Nancy, with a determined nod.

As everyone else voices their agreement, Steve wonders if the eight of them, The Party, will be enough to take the Demogorgons down. Or if they're going to need help to save Hawkins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come find me on tumblr [@gothyringwald](http://gothyringwald.tumblr.com/) if you like :) 
> 
> I have an edit for the fic that you [can take a gander at](http://gothyringwald.tumblr.com/post/169901724895/darklands-a-harringrove-au-when-the-world), if you wish. I also made logos for the gangs which [you can see here](http://gothyringwald.tumblr.com/post/169373533770/i-may-not-have-a-plot-for-the-harringrove-post) (and admire my fantastic Art skills). 
> 
> I am 100% picturing Billy dressed like [Luther the leader of The Rogues in The Warriors, by the way](http://warriorsmovie.co.uk/tie-ins/interviews/david-patrick-kelly'). Steve is more or less dressed like usual.
> 
> (For the purposes of this AU I'm saying Erica and Holly were never born, because it's easier and I'm lazy)
> 
> And I can't believe there isn't an enemies with benefits tag on here?


	2. come out to play

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Luther's famous line in The Warriors: 'Warriors, come out to plaaa-aaaaay'.
> 
> Thanks so much for the comments and kudos, so far <3

The junkyard is filled with restless teens, disturbing the debris of another life. A ghostly moon shines down on them all. The debris is silent, though it has many stories to tell; the teens are not. They jostle and jeer, most of them scowling, wondering what they're doing here, so late at night. 

Steve had called an emergency meeting of Hawkins' gangs after Mike had delivered the news that the Demogorgons were spotted nearby, destination and intentions clear. The Party, and Billy's Metal Militia, might be the biggest gangs in town but they aren't the only ones; after the world didn't quite end, several other rag-tag crews had banded together. Now they are all here, wearing their colours, brimming with curiosity and suspicion.

'Hey!' shouts Steve above the clamour, standing on top of a gutted, rusted bus. It does nothing; the rowdy gangs carry on their conversations below. 

Steve looks out across them. A swarming sea of teens, clad in denim and leather. His gaze comes to rest on Metal Militia, wearing their matching leather jacket vests, arms bare despite the cold. Billy is standing next to his step-sister, who is the only one wearing a long sleeved shirt, red hair hanging over her shoulder in a braid. Billy is, not surprisingly, one of the loudest in the crowd. Steve can't hear what he's saying but he's sure it's nothing flattering. 

Billy looks over, then, and Steve thinks how strange it is to see him, now, with his gang, when not an hour ago he was on his knees before Steve. Billy catches Steve's eye and runs his tongue along his bottom lip. Steve flushes. His own gang surround him; Mike and Will sit with their legs hanging off the edge of the bus, the others stand either side of Steve, all with bats in hand. He hopes none of them saw Billy.

When the noise goes on, Dustin, who had found a megaphone somewhere, repeats Steve's 'Hey!' The word echoes through the junkyard, bouncing off of the shells of old cars. The crowd finally falls silent.

'Thanks,' murmurs Steve. Dustin beams up at him and hands the megaphone over. Steve raises the megaphone to his mouth, but hesitates, words caught in his throat. This is important. He can't fuck it up. He looks down, sees The Party's logo on Mike's jacket—the black and blue d20 that the kids had insisted on—and it steels him.

'You're probably all wondering why I called you here,' Steve says. The megaphone squeals as he speaks into it. He winces.

Murmurs pick up but before they can escalate, again, Steve clears his throat and says, 'The Demogorgons are coming.' 

Silence falls, once more, but it is fraught, now. Steve knows why. The Demogorgons aren't notorious with no reason. They're sadistic, and they don't care about things like honour or loyalty. They just want to fuck everything up and tear it all down. On his less charitable days, Steve has thought that Billy would fit right in with them, except for two things: he enjoys being a big fish in a small pond, even if he has to share it with Steve, and he genuinely seems to care for his step-sister, Max.

Steve shakes his head, trying to clear all thoughts of Billy, but it's hard when he can practically feel Billy's gaze on him. It's almost tangible, hot and tingling, along his skin.

'The Demogorgons have been taking over every town in the midwest but I don't want that to happen to Hawkins.' Steve wipes his free hand on his jeans. 'So, I'm proposing a truce. We can fight them together.'

The crowd erupts, once more, into a chorus of indignant cries and disbelieving boos. One familiar voice rises above them all.

'A truce?' Billy climbs onto a metal drum, heavy boots clanging. 'Just because The Party is too weak to fight alone, doesn't mean we are.' He points a thumb at himself, then gestures toward the rest of his gang. They all cheer, except for Max, who just rolls her eyes. Tommy H raises both middle fingers in Steve's direction. Beside him, Carol laughs, head tipped back.

Billy ignores them, looking straight at Steve, gaze piercing. The bus creaks beneath Steve's feet as he shifts in place, the intensity of Billy's gaze unsettling. He licks his lips. Disappointment catches in his chest, even though he's not surprised that Billy wouldn't agree to a truce.

'It's not about being _weak_ ,' Steve says into the megaphone, but it does nothing to quiet the other teens. The Emeralds, the Hawks and the Gladiators have all taken up Metal Militia's dissent, now.

'It's about...' Steve starts, again, floundering. He should have let one of the others do this.

Nancy takes the megaphone and says, 'It's about honour.' Her voice is clear and certain as it rises above the commotion. 'It's about standing up for ourselves.'

Someone yells 'Fuck this!' and a rusty tin comes careening toward the bus. Before it can hit anyone, El is there, swinging her bat, hitting it back at them with a resounding thwack. It's uncanny, how quickly she responds, how true her aim is, even in the spare light of the moon.

Lucas raises his binoculars and, with a small smile, he says, 'I think you got him, El.'

Steve smiles, too. 'Thanks,' he says to El. She inclines her head, and slings her bat over her shoulder. She glares out at the crowd, as if defying them to throw something else.

In the distraction, people have already started to file out of the junkyard. Desperation claws at Steve's throat. He can't let the Demogorgons take over his town. He won't. He takes the megaphone back. 

'Do you really want to let Hawkins fall to outsiders?' he says, hoping to play on lingering hometown pride.

The leader of the Lizzies, wearing a navy hooded sweatshirt, dark hair a riot of curls, yells, 'Hell no!' She looks around at the rest of her gang, urging them on. 'Hell no!' they all repeat, almost in unison. 

Others start to take up the cheer, too, until there are more on the Party's side, than against. Relief floods Steve. Maybe they stand a chance of winning, after all.

'Then let's show them what Hawkins is made of!' he says, punching the air. He feels foolish, but the answering roar is electrifying.

When it dies down, Steve says, 'We'll give them a chance to fight honourably. Sunrise at the old football field. Anyone who wants to fight with us, be there.'

Everyone cheers, and Steve finds himself grinning. He looks around and finds the rest of The Party grinning back at him. 

'That was awesome,' says Dustin. Will nods his agreement from where he's still perched on the edge of the bus.

Steve ruffles Dustin's hair, and sucks in a deep breath, scanning the crowd. He's surprised to see Metal Militia are still here. Hope tugs at his chest, but he pushes it down. It doesn't mean anything. But, still, Steve catches Billy's eye and nods to his right. Billy casts a look at his gang, then nods back, almost imperceptibly.

Steve hands his bat to Nancy, who takes it with a confused frown.

'I'll be right back,' Steve says.

'Steve? Where are you going?' Nancy calls after him. 'Steve?' 

'I have to do something,' he says and climbs down from the bus, walking off to meet Billy.

__

'Twice in one night,' Billy says as he swaggers over to Steve. 'Just can't get your fill of me, huh?'

'Get over yourself, Hargrove,' Steve says, though the double meaning in Billy's words makes him flush. Another night he'd have quipped back it was Billy getting his fill of Steve, earlier, but, now, he's not in the mood. 'This is business.'

Billy raises his brows expectantly, but Steve doesn't elaborate. Billy's eyes narrow.

'I enjoyed your little speech. Very moving.' Billy moves around a washing machine that's listed to one side, closer to Steve. 'But if you want to convince me to join your band of nerds, you're going to have to try _harder_.'

Steve sighs, ignoring the innuendo. 'I'm not saying we have to get chummy full time. But we stand a better chance of defeating the Demogorgons together.' Something stirs inside him as he says 'together' and he folds his arms over his chest. It doesn't settle the feeling, but it helps him ignore it.

'Who says I want to defeat them?'

'You can't want to join them,' Steve scoffs.

'Why not?'

'I don't believe that.' Steve shakes his head. 'You like being in charge too much. And they already have a leader.'

Billy shrugs. 'OK. Still don't need a truce to beat them.' Billy moves closer, braces his hands behind Steve, bracketing him, just like he had in the woods. Steve fights the urge to shift away or lean closer. 

'You sure you're not up for a second round.' Billy leans closer, still, until Steve can smell sweat and leather. 'Seeing you take charge like that got me kinda worked up.'

Steve rolls his eyes in exasperation, both at Billy for his relentless flirtation and at himself for getting turned on. He hates how easily Billy does this to him. But, still, he leans forward. His gaze flicks to Billy's mouth. They're so close he can feel Billy's breath, warm over his cold skin. Something shifts in Billy's expression that makes Steve's mouth go dry. His palms are damp.

There is a crash, nearby, and they jump apart. Steve's heart kickstarts. He exchanges a silent look with Billy and they move off to investigate.

They round the corner and see five boys, about their age, wearing ripped acid wash jeans and studded leather jackets, boots laced to their knees. They're only kicking some trash around but Steve's breath catches. Demogorgons. He makes to grab Billy, before the others can see them, but Billy is already striding forward.

'Shit,' Steve mutters and follows after him. 

'Hey, boys, what's happening?' Billy asks, one arm propped on the wall. He looks nonchalant, but he's crackling with energy. Steve can feel it, hairs on the back of his neck standing on end.

All five Demogorgons turn their way. A shiver runs down Steve's spine but he stands his ground, beside Billy. He could leave—he doesn't owe Billy anything—but it doesn't feel right. Whatever happens, he's staying.

The Demogorgons move silently, shoulders rolling, taking long strides until they encircle Steve and Billy. Their expressionless faces give little away but Steve knows they're sizing them up.

He looks to Billy. There is a mean smile on his face and a hungry glint in his eyes. Hungry for a fight. Couldn't wait, could he, Steve thinks, bitterly. His fingers flex at his side. He wishes he hadn't left his bat with Nancy.

'So, think you can just come along and take our town?' Billy asks, cocky as ever. 

One of the Demogorgons—a tall boy with sandy blond hair and limpid eyes—turns his gaze on Billy. He moves closer, gets right in Billy's face. He smiles, wide, and Steve shudders as he gets the impression of too many teeth. The Demogorgon just leans closer and whispers, 'Yes.'

It's Billy who throws the first punch, of course it's him. Cracks the Demogorgon square in the jaw. Sends him stumbling back from the force of the blow. A tense moment follows, when the Demogorgon's eyes narrow, one hand cradling his jaw, mouth curling. The other Demogorgons close in on Steve and Billy, slowly, silently, and then the tension breaks. 

A fist swings and Steve ducks. He swings back, gets one of the boys in the stomach. When he doubles over, Steve thrusts his knee into his face. It connects with a sickening crunch. Steve's jeans come away red.

Pain blooms over Steve's cheekbone and he stumbles back. Billy catches him, sets him back on his feet, then wheels around and viciously pounds another Demogorgon. Steve has only ever fought _against_ Billy, before, not with him. But this is exhilarating, he can't deny it. When Billy shoves one of the Demogorgons, Steve catches him with an uppercut. They move like they're in a fucking dance.

With another blow, the last Demogorgon goes down for the count. Steve's fists ache, his jaw throbs, but his blood is singing. Adrenaline courses through his veins. It's been a while since he's been in a fight, like this; he hadn't realised he'd _missed_ it. 

Billy laughs. A wicked grin lights up his face. 'That was hot,' he says. His lip is split, blood trickling down his chin. He doesn't wipe it away.

Steve swallows. He thinks, 'Yeah, it was,' but doesn't say so. He shakes his hand, curls it back into a fist and turns it to the light to inspect the damage to his knuckles. He barely spares a glance at the unconscious Demogorgons slumped around them.

Billy is standing a foot away, tongue between his teeth. Steve bites his lip. They're both panting, covered in sweat and dirt and blood. Electricity buzzes along Steve's skin. It builds, and builds, until one moment Billy is staring at him, eyes wide, the next he's curling his bruised hands around Steve's waist. Pulling him close. Kissing him. It's all teeth and tongue and desperation. Steve kisses back. His hands on Billy's shoulders, holding him tight. His tongue in Billy's mouth, searching, running along Billy's teeth. Heat shoots through Steve when Billy's tongue touches his. They both moan.

Billy pulls away, keeping one hand fisted in Steve's shirt, so they're still pressed together. His eyes blaze. 'Your gang, my gang.' His chest is heaving. The blood on his chin is smeared, now. 'We can annihilate the Demogorgons. We don't need the other losers in this town. We just took out five of them on our own.'

Steve breaks out of Billy's grasp. 'And what if these were the weakest members? Or meant to lull us into a false sense of security?' God. He sounds like Lucas.

Billy shakes his head and huffs a rueful laugh. 'If you're too chicken shit, I guess my gang will have to do it without you and your nerds.' He turns to walk away, body a tense line.

'Billy, wait...' Steve says, but he knows he won't convince Billy, now. He's too hotheaded, too geared up after this victory. Steve can't blame him. It's heady. 

Billy doesn't wait. Steve watches him walk away for the second time tonight, stomach in knots. He raises his fingers to his mouth. He can still feel Billy's lips on his, still taste him. His pulse thrums. Of course their first kiss would taste of blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come find me on tumblr [@gothyringwald](http://gothyringwald.tumblr.com/) if you like :) 
> 
> A couple of things:
> 
> The other gang names mentioned are taken either from West Side Story or The Warriors 
> 
> ICYMI I have [an edit for the fic here](http://gothyringwald.tumblr.com/post/169901724895/darklands-a-harringrove-au-when-the-world) (feel free to reblog if that's your jam) and I [started a playlist for it here](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLTicimQp55PbiGCsuuprWO53Me3wEJNFm). I'll post a proper, full playlist with a cover in the next couple of chapters. But, for now, this is what I've got. Each song corresponds to a certain scene (mood-wise, not lyrically, necessarily), and I've indicated which songs are for which chapter on the playlist, so far.
> 
> Also, I should probably have said in the first chapter that I'm quite a slow writer (well, a slow editor) and I'm juggling a few fics at the moment so I can't promise a consistent update schedule. I'm trying to post a bit more about my writing process on tumblr, including updates, so, as I said, feel free to come find me on there if you want to see those. (Or if you just want to say hi or whatever! I'm always happy to chat)


	3. tonight, tonight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, OK, this chapter kicked my arse which is why it took me so long to update! Sorry, folks. And a huuuuuuuuge thank you to [ficsandfuckery](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficsandfuckery/pseuds/ficsandfuckery) for beta-ing this chapter for me and convincing me it wasn’t awful! ♡♡♡

Steve gives The Party an edited version of his fight with the stray Demogorgons when he returns, still buzzing and dazed from kissing Billy. That Steve had encountered the other gang when he had met with Billy to try to convince him to agree to the truce was true enough. But Steve leaves out that it was Billy who goaded the Demogorgons, that Steve could have walked away, and, most of all, why he's so desperate to have Metal Militia, to have _Billy_ , fight alongside them. When Dustin asks why there is blood on Steve's face, he wipes it away and says it must belong to one of the Demogorgons, though the taste of Billy is still heavy on his tongue.

No one is happy that Steve had gone off to talk to Billy alone—nor are they surprised that Billy didn't agree to the truce—but they're all tired and anxious and have more pressing things to talk about.

'Bethany, from the Queenpins, got here just after you left,' Jonathan says. 'She said the Demogorgons have set up camp by the old lab.'

'We should ambush them!' Mike says.

Lucas rolls his eyes. 'We can't ambush them at the lab. That's probably why they set up camp there.' 

'Yes, we can. We know Hawkins better than they do!'

'No ambush,' Steve says. His breath mists in the air and he shoves his hands in his pockets. 'We told everyone we were going to fight honourably.'

'What do we do, now, then?' Will asks. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, eyes wide.

'We get a message to the Demogorgons,' Steve says. He leans back against the rusted bus and crosses his arms. 'Let them know we're going to fight for Hawkins. On our terms.'

'If they even agree,' Dustin says, in a tone that suggests he doesn't think they will. 

'I'll take the message,' Nancy says.

'Nance, no...' Steve starts but is cut short by the determined glint in her eyes. 

She sticks out her chin. 'You can't go. If anything happens...well, it's better not to send our leader, right?' There is an edge to her voice that says she's pissed at Steve. For meeting with Billy, without The Party, and, no doubt, for going out alone, earlier. If she only knew he'd been with Billy then, as well, what he'd been _doing_ with Billy. The thought makes a sticky kind of panic well up within Steve.

'OK,' Steve says, trying to swallow it down.

'If Nancy's going, I'm going,' Mike says.

El steps closer to Mike, frowning up at Steve. 'And I'm going with Mike.'

Steve groans and scrubs a hand over his face when Dustin and Lucas start saying they should go, too. He holds up a hand and says, 'We can't _all_ go,' though he wishes they could.

__

Steve feels useless as he paces the length of the living room, arms hugged around his middle. His whole body aches and he's tired down to his bones but his blood is vibrating. He can't stop thinking about Nancy, Mike and El going to meet the Demogorgons, can't stop thinking about watching Billy walk away, about fighting by his side, about kissing him. It all whirls through him, feverish and bewildering.

Jonathan sits on the couch with Will, making an attempt at playing a card game, while Dustin and Lucas stand sentry by the window. The lights flicker overhead and Steve thinks he'll have to get one of the kids to make sure the generator isn't playing up, again, when this is all over. He doesn't want to entertain the thought that flickering lights might be the least of his worries, by then.

Jonathan glances up at Steve as he crosses the room, once more, floorboards creaking beneath his sneakers. Steve shrugs, apologetic, but his stomach is roiling. The pacing is all that will settle it.

'Are they taking too long?' Will asks, sitting on his hands.

'No. The Demogorgons' camp is on the other side of town, remember,' Jonathan says, but his voice carries little conviction. 

The knots in Steve's stomach twist. He should have gone. He turns and walks across the room, again.

'I see the car!' Lucas says and everyone turns toward the window.

The crunch of tires over the gravel drive, and the distinct rattle of Jonathan's car reach the living room. Will sags with relief and Jonathan stands, hands flexing by his sides. Dustin opens the door to let Nancy, Mike and El in. Nancy rushes into Jonathan's arms, and the kids all hug each other, while Steve stands by, before they shuffle into the kitchen. 

'What happened?' Steve asks, leaning over the table. Dustin stands next to him, radiating nervous energy.

'The Demogorgons agreed,' Nancy says, sitting heavily. She sounds as surprised as Steve feels. Looks as worn out as he feels, too.

'Then we rumble, sunrise at the football field,' Steve says. He presses his lips together. 

Everyone murmurs, uneasily. The Demogorgons are tougher than anyone they've faced, before, and the stakes are higher now, too.

'I can't believe you went to their camp,' Dustin says, breathless.

'You should have seen it!' Mike says, from where he's sitting between El and Lucas. 'It was like something from a movie.'

'It was...creepy,' El says.

'You went in?' Will asks, wide-eyed.

Nancy shakes her head. 'We just saw the outside.'

'Still,' Mike says, but he's cut off when a bell sounds. The trip wire they set up around the perimeter has been caught.

'Were you followed?' Jonathan asks Nancy.

'I don't think so,' she answers, with a small frown.

Moments later there is a frantic pounding at the front door. Steve raises a finger to his lips and gestures for Nancy and Jonathan to follow him. Maybe the Demogorgons followed Nancy and the others back. Maybe agreeing to The Party's terms was just a ploy. It was surprising that they had agreed, after all. They're hardly known for fighting honourably.

Jonathan stands behind Steve, while Nancy takes her place to the side of the door, bat clutched in her hands.

Steve opens the door a crack and peers out, heart pounding. 'Max?' He opens the door wider. His heart leaps. 'Billy? What are you doing here?'

Max and Billy look battered, wrung out. A bruise blooms on Billy's cheek, sickly under the porch light. It hadn't been there, earlier. His eyelashes are damp. After their fight with the Demogorgons, Billy had been crackling with energy, but now he looks defeated.

'Are you gonna let us in?' Max seems agitated. Her sleeve is torn and there is a slash of red on her pale skin. 'Please?'

Steve looks to Nancy who shakes her head. 

'I'm not sure,' Steve says.

'Please. We agree to the truce.' Max elbows Billy. 'Don't we?'

Billy finally looks at Steve. It's like a punch to the gut. There's so much anger in his icy gaze but something lost and desperate, too. 'Yes,' is all he says.

Steve turns back to Nancy and then Jonathan. Jonathan shrugs and Nancy reluctantly nods. 

'Then you'd better come in,' Steve says, stepping aside to let the two members of his rival gang into his home.

__

'What happened?' Steve asks as he tends to the cut on Max's arm. The boys had protested letting Max and Billy inside, but Steve had reasoned that there were only two of them, and if anyone else came along they'd trip the wire, too.

'My brother got the bright idea to go after the Demogorgons on our own,' Max says, eyes flaming. 'And then...' She trails off and swallows thickly. Her cheeks colour. 'They burnt down our house.'

Everyone gasps. Steve looks to Billy. The set of his jaw is hard and he has one arm braced on the sink. Steve wishes he'd tried harder, now, to stop Billy. He never would have listened to Steve but at least he could have tried.

'Where's everyone else?' Steve asks, smoothing a bandage over Max's skin, tearing his gaze from her brother.

'Tommy and Carol ran away,' Max spits. 'The others...' She blinks, eyes suddenly glassy. Billy turns away. Max shakes her head, and Steve isn't sure if that means she doesn't know or doesn't want to say.

'Maybe we should all get some rest,' Nancy says, cutting through the uneasy silence.

Steve nods. He looks around the kitchen. Everyone seems uncomfortable and he can tell they aren't too happy about Billy and Max being here. But, with only four hours to sunrise, there's no time to vote, like they usually would. So, Steve says, 'You can stay here, for now,' to Billy, blood tingling at the thought of it, 'so long as you fight the Demogorgons with us.'

Billy looks at him, gaze fierce, and says, 'That's not gonna be a problem.'

__

Steve is sitting on his bed, fingers curled over the edge of his mattress, staring down at his feet. He's not sure if it's the impending fight or the thought of Billy in his living room, but he can't rest, blood thrumming uncomfortably, heart beating so hard he feels sick with it. The door creaks open. He looks up and his heart skips when he sees Billy, leaning against the door frame.

Steve stands, hands on his hips, and fixes Billy with what he hopes is a stern look. 'What are you doing?'

Billy doesn't answer, only takes off his leather vest and hangs it over the chair by the door. He looks around the room, curious and searching. Somehow, Steve feels like he's being undressed, even though Billy isn't looking at him. Long, silent moments pass until Billy's gaze finally comes to rest on Steve.

He walks over, slowly, and wraps a hand around the back of Steve's neck. It's warm and rough. Billy leans in and Steve jerks away.

'Don't,' he says, not looking at Billy. Steve can't do this, shouldn't do this, not now, not in his home. 

'Don't what?'

Steve shakes his head and moves around Billy to lean against the dresser. Lets himself look at Billy. The bruise smudged high along his cheekbone, the bow of his pink lips, sharp jaw dusted with stubble. The curve of his bicep, down to his wrist, his hands. Steve aches with longing but he pushes it down.

Billy looks over at him. 'If anything happens...' He trails off but he doesn't look away. 'Look after Max, OK?' 

'Of course,' Steve says. He doesn't bother to say 'nothing's going to happen'. It would be a meaningless platitude and they both know it.

Steve moves back over to Billy, curls a hand around his elbow. He had only meant to reassure Billy, tell him Max will have a home here, but, instead, he's leaning in, pressing their mouths together. Kissing Billy for the second time.

There's no blood on Billy's lips, now. Just the faint taste of cigarettes as he opens his mouth to Steve. His hands go around Steve's waist, snake up under his shirt. Steve sinks his hands into Billy's hair, angling him so he can deepen the kiss. Billy makes a small, formless noise when Steve slides his tongue against his.

With every passing moment, Steve craves more. More kisses, more skin, more Billy. He draws Billy closer to him. His face throbs, where he'd been punched, but his muscles, which have been screaming for hours, relax under Billy's disarmingly gentle touch. It's so different than it has ever been with Billy. It's strange. Steve doesn't know what's shifted, or why, except that maybe they both need it to be like this, tonight.

There is a noise from the next room that breaks through the spell that has settled over them and Steve pulls back.

'Wait,' he says. 'The others. I can't-'

'They're probably asleep. I didn't see any lights on,' Billy says. His hands are still on Steve's waist. 

'Oh,' Steve says. He looks at Billy and can't remember any of the reasons they shouldn't be doing this.

There is heat in it, an urgency, as he falls into Billy, again. Kisses him like maybe this will be the last time. For all Steve knows, it might be, and he wishes they hadn't wasted months with not kissing. He smears kisses along Billy's jaw, down his neck, thumb pressed to the hollow of Billy's throat. Billy tilts his head to the side, breath coming out in a rush.

It's so quiet that Steve can hear every little hitch of Billy's breath, the way his tongue works as he swallows, the pounding of his own blood, hot in his veins.

Steve kisses Billy's lips, again, hands at his waist. They trail down Billy's sides until they rest on the hem of his sweatshirt. He tugs on it and Billy pulls back so he can shed it. There is a bruise forming on Billy's ribs, a deep rose against his pale skin. Steve runs his fingers over it. Billy shivers. 

'Sorry,' Steve whispers but Billy just shakes his head.

He fists his hands in Steve's shirt. 'Off,' he says, against Steve's mouth, and so Steve pulls his shirt off, flinging it across the room.

They've never had time to do it like this, before. To get undressed, at all, so the feel of Billy's naked chest against his is as new as the feeling of kissing him. It's dizzying.

Billy sets his hands on Steve's chest and pushes, crowding him against the bed. The backs of Steve's knees hit the mattress and he sits heavily. Billy straddles him, kisses him, holds him. They don't talk. Steve is glad for it. 

They topple back, the bed groaning under their weight. The length of Billy's torso covers Steve's, thighs spread across Steve's hips, hands pinning Steve's above his head. Steve hisses when his bruised knuckles sink into the mattress. It's a sweet kind of pain, though, with Billy above him. Billy kisses Steve's neck, presses their hips together, shifting until Steve can feel Billy's cock against his, through layers of denim. He's as hard as Steve is.

Steve manages to free his hands from Billy's hold, slides them down until he's gripping Billy's ass, hard, rolling his hips up. Billy moans into Steve's neck and Steve uses the moment of distraction to flip them over. Billy huffs and blinks up at Steve. His hair is fanned around him on the pillow like a halo. Steve snorts, softly, at the thought. Billy frowns at that, head tilting. Steve shakes his head. 

Billy cranes his neck to kiss him and then he's scrambling for Steve's belt, undoing it along with his jeans, pushing them down over Steve's hips with clammy hands. He makes short work of his own jeans and then pulls Steve back down to him. It feels like his hands are everywhere on Steve all at once. 

'Want you,' Steve says, words spilling from his mouth unbidden. 'Need...'

'Yeah,' Billy says like he knows exactly what Steve was going to say. Like he needs it, too.

It should unsettle Steve, this change between them—no taunting, no wrestle for power, just the two of them in the quiet of his room—but there's something about it that feels right. Inevitable. He reaches for the bedside table, yanking the drawer open and fumbling until his hand curls around the bottle he's searching for. 

'OK?' Steve asks.

'Yeah,' Billy says, again, and hitches his leg around Steve's waist as Steve slides his slick fingers inside him. The few times they've done this, it's been a furtive fuck against a tree, or a wall, both of them with their jeans around their knees. Never slow like this. Billy's breath catches and Steve leans down to kiss him, swallowing his moans.

Billy pulls away. 'I'm good,' he says and then he's pushing at Steve until he's on his back, again, with Billy leaning over him, knees planted in the mattress either side of Steve's waist. Steve blinks up at Billy, hands running along his thighs. Billy's biting his lip. And then he's sinking down, hot and tight around Steve's cock.

'Fuck,' Steve says, back arching. He has one hand fisted in the sheets, the other on Billy's hip, steadying him.

Billy rocks down, as Steve's hips roll up in small circles, until Steve is all the way inside of him, their bodies flush against each other. A sheen of sweat covers Billy's skin, glistening in the low light. Heat prickles along Steve's spine when Billy makes a soft, satisfied noise, one hand splayed over Steve's chest and then Billy's moving. Rising up and sinking down. Over and over.

They have to keep it slow, otherwise the mattress squeaks and the headboard bangs against the wall. But it’s hot and heady and pleasure spreads through Steve, viscous and sweet like honey. He moves one hand around to Billy's back, braces himself on the other, and then sits up.

'Oh, shit,' Billy says, mouth going slack. A pretty flush colours his face, crawls down his neck, spreads across his chest. He's beautiful.

Steve follows the path of the flush with his mouth. Drags his teeth over Billy's collarbone, licks along it. Sucks the salt from Billy's skin. Billy stutters out a breath as Steve lets his hands roam all over the soft skin he's never touched like this before.

Their hips rock in a sinuous rhythm, Billy's cock dragging against Steve's stomach as he moves up and down. His arms are around Steve's neck, hands fisted in his hair. He tugs, Steve moaning at the sharp pain, and tilts Steve's head back. The look on Billy's face steals Steve's breath away. It's too much, Steve thinks, and maybe Billy thinks so, too, because then he's hiding his face in Steve's neck, biting down. Steve lets him, this time. Doesn't say anything about leaving marks. It's so much easier to do this without looking into Billy's eyes.

Billy comes first, spilling between them, untouched, breathing out Steve's name. Steve has a brief moment to think this might be the first time Billy has ever said his name before he's coming, too, pressed deep inside Billy.

They hold each other, a little longer, sweaty and spent, breathing into each other's mouths. But then the sweat starts to dry, their hearts return to rest and Billy clambers off of Steve, leaving him cold. He doesn't say anything. There's just the sound of his breath, the rustle of fabric as he cleans himself before lying back.

Steve blinks and looks down at Billy. Somehow, he looks like he belongs here, in his bed, and that scares Steve, maybe more than the thought of fighting the Demogorgons in a few hours.

'Are you going to stare at me, or are you going to sleep?' Billy asks, eyes still closed.

Steve swallows, tongue thick, and wants to tell Billy he has to go back to the living room, but he just says, 'Sleep.'

Billy hums and doesn't say anything else. Steve turns off the bedside lamp, leaving only moonlight slanting through the blinds. It paints Billy in silver bands, and Steve takes a moment to look over the lean lines of his body before he tentatively lies down beside him. In one impulsive moment, he places his hand on top of Billy's where it rests between them. Billy's fingers twitch and Steve nearly pulls away but then Billy turns his hand under Steve's and laces their fingers together. 

Steve's heart thuds, unsteadily, and his face is uncomfortably hot, but he finally closes his eyes when Billy's thumb swipes over his. Billy's breathing deepens. He's asleep. It's not long before Steve falls asleep, too, holding Billy's hand tight. The room is still and quiet but, even so, Steve doesn't hear the door creak open or the shocked gasp that follows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm kind of anxious about this chapter. Maybe because it took so long? Who knows!
> 
> Anyway, come find me on tumblr [@gothyringwald](http://gothyringwald.tumblr.com/), if you like :)
> 
> And, I [have an edit for the fic](http://gothyringwald.tumblr.com/post/169901724895/darklands-a-harringrove-au-when-the-world) ICYMI


	4. rumble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [Jackie](http://twobrokenwyngs.tumblr.com/) for looking this chapter over for me!

Steve wakes first, with Billy sleeping soundly beside him. They're no longer holding hands, but they have turned toward each other, tangled together in a way that is disarmingly intimate. Billy's hand is curled in the sheets, by Steve's shoulder, and Steve wants to take it, press his mouth to Billy's fingers. He doesn't, though, and instead rolls onto his back, looking up at the shadows on the ceiling. 

It's still dark out, but the darkness has taken on the quality of that hour before sunrise, now. Lightening, fading to grey. Usually, Steve would curl up, cocoon himself in his blankets, burrow deep. But, between the clock that shows there is just over an hour until the rumble, and the way Billy's deep, even breathing makes Steve's own breath quicken, his chest tighten, he can't.

He sits, throwing his legs over the side of the mattress, and scrubs a hand over his face. The bed creaks beneath him as he stretches, feeling his bones pop and crack. There is a stale taste in his mouth, and he feels all washed out, head foggy and eyes heavy. He can't look down at Billy. The tenderness between them has left Steve feeling off-kilter. It's brought feelings he's tried not to look at too closely, for months now, bubbling to the surface. He'll have to deal with them, sooner or later, but for now there is the rumble with the Demogorgons to contend with.

Steve stands and puts his jeans on. He chances a look at Billy who is still asleep, mouth slightly open. Steve would have taken him for a light sleeper, had hoped his getting out of bed would wake Billy so he wouldn't have to. He sighs and slips his shirt on. He tries not to think about the film of dried sweat, of Billy's scent, clinging to his skin. How Billy probably still smells like him. Steve leans over and shakes Billy's shoulder. His skin is soft under his palm. When Billy's eyes blink open, Steve turns away.

'You should get dressed,' Steve says, 'before anyone else wakes up.'

Steve hears Billy grunt and then slide out of bed before he feels warmth at his back. Breath hot on his neck, arms sliding around his waist. The pressure of Billy's arms is light but Steve feels like he's being crushed. 'Good morning,' Billy says, voice rough from sleep.

Steve swallows thickly. 'I'll, uh, I'll see you in the kitchen,' he says and rushes from the room before Billy can say anything else.

__

The kitchen is filled with the scent of scrambled eggs and pancakes, prepared by Jonathan. It would usually make Steve's mouth water but, today, he has little appetite. Everyone else's breakfasts sit practically untouched on mismatched plates. Steve pushes his own plate away, giving up the pretence of eating. Guilt gnaws at him—for running out of the bedroom, for stepping out with Billy for months without telling anyone, for not knowing how he feels—as equally as fear and longing do. Fuck. He's a mess.

He gulps his coffee, all too aware of Billy sprawled in the chair beside him, knee touching Steve's thigh beneath the table, as Will asks, 'So, it's skins, right? No weapons?'

'Right,' Nancy says. She's drumming her fingers on her coffee mug, beating a nervous tattoo. Jonathan wraps his hand around hers, stilling the movement.

'You really think the Demogorgons won't bring weapons?' Billy says, incredulous. 'They fight dirty.' 

On Billy's other side, Max glowers silently at her plate. Steve can't tell if she's angry with her brother or agrees with him and is angry at everyone else. Steve doesn't know her well enough to guess which is more likely. 

He does know Billy is right to be suspicious, though, especially after what happened to Metal Militia. It's foolish to trust the Demogorgons. But Steve's head is so mixed up that he just doesn't know what to do. He settles on saying, 'We have to trust they'll keep to their word.'

Billy scoffs. Steve looks up at him, then, prepared to say something else but beneath Billy's scowl there is something warm, something Steve doesn't want to put a name to. It quiets Steve's tongue. He wonders how long Billy has been looking at him like that. 

'We can always park nearby and leave weapons in the car, just in case,' Lucas suggests.

Steve nods, finally looking away from Billy. 'Yeah, that's a good idea.' He runs a finger along the rough edge of the table.

'I suppose so,' Billy says, though he sounds unconvinced.

'Well, no one asked you.' Mike waves his fork in Billy's direction. 'You're not one of us.'

'Mike,' Nancy says, warning in her tone, though she sends Billy a dubious look. 

Billy jerks forward, a sneer twisting his face, but before he can say anything, Steve pushes him back with a hand on his shoulder. Billy goes without resistance, but his body is still taut with tension, he's still sneering. 

'Cool it,' Steve says, and Billy relaxes, slightly, under his hand.

Across the table, Dustin is scowling. He's been unusually quiet all morning. Frosty with Steve, in particular. He's probably just nervous about the fight, Steve thinks. They all are.

'Hey,' Steve says, catching Dustin's eye. 'We'll be OK.' He tries to sound like he believes it.

'Whatever,' Dustin says, giving Steve a dirty look and pushing away from the table. The scrape of chair legs over the floor is deafening. 'I saw you,' he says and then he stalks away.

El follows Dustin's path from the room with a small frown. 'What did he mean?'

Steve can feel everyone looking at him, expectant. He shakes his head—can feel Billy tense beside him when he does—and says, 'I don't know.'

__

'Hey, what...what did you mean at breakfast?' Steve asks Dustin, placing a hand on his shoulder, as they make their way to the football field. Their footfalls echo in the empty street, almost thunderous in the hush of dawn.

'I meant I saw you,' Dustin hisses, shrugging Steve off. His eyes dart over to Billy. 'He's still the _enemy_ , Steve.'

Steve's blood goes cold, his knees go weak. He opens his mouth to try to explain but, if Dustin saw what Steve thinks he must have, then there's nothing to say.

Dustin shakes his head when Steve stays silent and walks off, joining the rest of The Party up ahead. Lucas nudges Dustin with his shoulder, casts a glance back at Steve, but Dustin waves him off.

Steve is frozen, mind oddly blank, but he snaps out of it when Nancy calls out to him. With a few shaky strides he catches up with the others. Billy is looking at him, eyes piercing. Steve's stomach clenches and his heart races. It feels like the ground beneath his feet is tilting, first one way, then the other. Billy drops back to fall into step with Steve, catching Steve's wrist. Steve's pulse jumps. 

'Hey,' Billy says. His fingers trace the path of Steve's tendons, thumb stroking the heel of his palm.

Steve is too dazed to do anything but let their hands linger against each other.

'So, that kid see us together?' Billy asks. He winks and adds, 'Guess we should've locked your door, huh?'

Steve snatches his hand out of Billy's grasp, skin tingling. 'Don't.'

'Seriously? I don't care if your little nerd squad knows, Harrington,' Billy says, surprisingly candid.

Steve stops and rounds on Billy. 'Well, I do.' 

Billy's face shutters. 'Right,' he says and strides off without another word.

Steve feels stricken. He runs a hand over his face and forces himself to keep walking. Past the rows of empty houses, past the overgrown yards, past the skeletons of rusting cars decaying on the side of the road. 

He's still tangled in thoughts of Billy and Dustin and too many secrets when they reach the football field. But the sight that greets him unravels him, leaves him breathless. There are the Lizzies in their navy sweatshirts, The Maneaters in their brightly coloured vests, the Gladiators in their black tanks. The Emeralds, The Hawks, The Alley Cats and the Easy Aces. Each and every one of Hawkins' gangs has come, wearing their colours and spoiling for a fight. The nervous hum of their chatter drowns out the unsteady thrum of Steve's pulse in his ears.

'Wow,' El says. Beside her Mike is staring at the field in awe.

'We're gonna win, aren't we?' Will says, only a little uncertainty in his voice. Jonathan ruffles his hair.

Steve nods, tongue too thick to say anything. He looks over the faces of The Party, of Billy and Max, then out across the football field at the other gangs. 'Yeah,' he says absently, and moves forward, The Party following behind him.

They're greeted with a roaring cheer that fades out as a large group of teenagers in acid wash denim and studded jackets emerges through the fog blanketing the field. They walk with squared shoulders, faces blank, radiating violence in every step, stopping a few feet away.

The leader of the Demogorgons strides forward and Steve moves over to meet him, standing toe to toe. 

'I'm surprised you agreed to the rumble,' Steve says, amazed at how steady his voice is, looking the Demogorgon over. He's big. Seems strong. 'You're not known for being honourable.'

The Demogorgon gives him a toothy grin. 'I thought it would be cute to let you fight for your town.' He sucks his teeth. 'And lose, of course.'

Steve bristles. 'We don't plan on losing.'

The Demogorgon laughs, slow and mean, as he cracks his knuckles. 'Then let's rumble.'

__

Impact vibrates through Steve's skull. He tastes blood. His ears ring. But adrenaline courses through him and he doesn't feel pain. Not yet. He swings and his fist connects with the Demogorgon's jaw. The Demogorgons' leader staggers back. Steve advances, hitting him again and again. The Demogorgon laughs, high and unnatural.

'Smalltown boy can pack a punch,' he says, teeth shining red. 'I like it.'

'Just shut up and fight,' Steve pants.

'Oh, I will.'

A punch to the gut has Steve doubling over. Wheezing. He takes one more hit, then two, three, before he gets the upper hand again. Brings his knee up, thrusting it into the Demogorgon's solar plexus, winding him.

From across the field, someone yells, 'He's got a knife!' and Steve wheels around. There is a flash of silver over near Dustin and Steve's stomach pitches. He needs to get over there. But then there is a blur of blond curls as Billy steps in, slugging the Demogorgon who's wielding the knife. Steve can't see what happens after that. He's grabbed from behind, hauled back into his fistfight with the Demogorgons' leader. He doesn't have time to think about Dustin or Billy or the knife as they grapple.

They're both flagging and from the glimpses Steve gets of those fighting around him, it seems they're not the only ones. It's time for this to end.

With renewed force, Steve cracks the leader across the jaw, hard, and he goes down. Before he can get back up, Steve rests his foot on his windpipe. Smudging his skin with grass and mud. 'That cute enough for you?' Steve asks, glaring down at him. The Demogorgon spits blood and teeth. He nods, reluctantly, but he's sneering. Steve presses his foot down, the threat of more pressure. 'Now take your gang and get the fuck out of my town.'

He steps away and the Demogorgon wipes over his mouth, then crawls away from Steve without another word.

A cheer rises up. Steve looks around, chest heaving. The majority of the Hawkins gangs are still standing, the fallen moaning or unconscious in the grass. There is triumph in the weary frames of those standing, though, still riding the high of the fight. Of the victory. Steve feels it too, numb with joy, until his gaze lands on Dustin standing stock still, two bodies slumped at his feet. 

'No,' Steve whispers and runs to them.

Max is there, too, hair wild and knuckles split. She's shoving at the Demogorgon slumped over Billy and crying. 'I can't move him.'

'Here.' Steve grabs him under the arms and hauls him off of Billy, letting him thunk to the ground. He's vaguely aware the Demogorgon feels too heavy but Steve can't be sure if he's dead or just unconscious. All he can think about, all he can see, is Billy. And blood. Everywhere.

'Oh god.' Steve's stomach churns. Billy's grey sweatshirt is stained deep red. He's not moving.

Steve drops to his knees. He fists his hands in Billy's sweatshirt. Pushes it up, searching for the source of the blood. But he can't find anything. There's just Billy's warm skin beneath his palms. Bruised, but otherwise intact. His stomach rising and falling. Rising and falling. He's breathing. Steve starts breathing again, too. Hadn't realised he wasn't. 

But the blood, Steve thinks...then he looks down, to where a flick-knife is clutched in Billy's hand. He must have wrested it from the Demogorgon.

'Billy?' Steve says. He holds Billy's face in his hands, smearing blood everywhere. There is a strong pulse thrumming in Billy's neck, when Steve rests his hand there, but his eyes are still closed. 'Billy?' he repeats and thinks _please be OK_.

Billy groans and his eyes flutter. 'Steve?'

'Yeah,' Steve breathes, throat tight and eyes pricking.

'What happened?' Billy shifts under Steve's hands. Leans into Steve's touch.

'You saved Dustin,' Max says. She's looking between Steve and Billy with a small frown, eyes glassy.

Billy blinks, gaze still unfocussed. His breath rattles but he's _breathing_.

'I thought...' Steve sighs and shakes his head. He pulls Billy into a crushing hug, relishing the feel of Billy in his arms. Alive. Safe. 'I thought you were dead,' he murmurs into Billy's hair.

'Not that easy to get rid of me,' Billy says, voice scratchy and raw, as he holds Steve tight.

'Good.' Steve pulls back and cups Billy's face. He looks surprised. There are more bruises forming under Billy's skin, he's trembling all over, and he's covered in sweat and dirt and blood. 'You OK?'

'I think so.' Billy rubs the back of his head.

Steve gently runs a thumb along his cheek, stomach slowly turning over as Billy looks up at him. In that moment he forgets everything else, as he leans in and nearly kisses Billy.

But then someone is saying, 'What's going on? Steve?' and Steve jerks back. The Party are gathered around Steve and Billy. Steve stands. Now that the spell has broken he feels both relieved to see everyone else seems relatively unharmed and guilty that he'd only been thinking of Billy until now.

'Everyone OK?' Steve asks, ignoring the question that had brought reality crashing down onto him. 

'Yes,' Nancy says, as everyone else nods and murmurs, 'but why were you...what...' 

'I-' Steve swallows thickly. He looks at Dustin who is not looking at Steve. At Billy who is, gaze somewhere between guarded and expectant. 

'I don't...' Steve tries again. Something shifts in Billy's expression, like a lock sliding back into place, and it twists in Steve's stomach. He doesn't know what Billy wants. He doesn't know what The Party wants, except Dustin had said, 'he's still the enemy, Steve', but that was before Billy had saved him. He does know how it felt when he thought Billy might be dead. How it was worse than the gut-punch that had left him gasping for air. How it had felt like he'd never breathe again. But it doesn't mean...

The Party's unease as Steve remains silent crawls along his skin, urging him to say something—it's only been seconds but it feels like years—and so, panicked, he blurts, 'It's nothing,' words a little too biting. He doesn't look at Billy. 'This is nothing.' Steve thinks he might throw up. 

Before anyone can respond someone starts up the chant, 'Hawkins! Hawkins!' and soon the whole field is full of bruised teenagers yelling their hometown name. Like a battle cry. It distracts The Party, takes their attention away from Steve and Billy and Steve lets out a long breath.

'Harrington!' the leader of The Lizzies yells, waving at Steve, 'Get over here!' and, urged ahead by The Party, Steve makes his way into the throng. 

The defeated Demogorgons slink away, sporting more than just bruised egos, while The Hawkins gangs boo and jeer after them. But a hush settles when Steve steps forward, looking over the triumphant rabble staring back at him. The sweat on his skin is cooling, making him itch and his whole body is slowly starting to ache. He runs a hand through his hair. 

'Today, we won,' he says, licking his lips, 'because we fought together. Some of us may be The Party or The Lizzies or The Maneaters or whoever else but we are _all_ Hawkins!'

Another chorus of cheers and whoops erupts, with The Party joining in this time. Steve stays silent but he feels their jubilation coursing through him. He turns to find Billy, wants to share this moment with him, despite his sharp words from minutes ago.

But when he turns around, Billy is gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken me so long to update. I've been distracted by my road trip fic :)
> 
> Please feel free to come find me on tumblr [@gothyringwald](http://gothyringwald.tumblr.com/) . And ICYMI I have [an edit for the fic here](http://gothyringwald.tumblr.com/post/169901724895/darklands-a-harringrove-au-when-the-world) if reblogging is your bag :)
> 
> Oh, and I've made my [spotify playlist of the soundtrack public](https://open.spotify.com/user/andibgoode/playlist/51xWcs9aKLCeOTGJSg9F7m?si=vGmVcEbQTAi4vVSzIE5XEQ)! I was going to do a tumblr post with the cover but I'm too tired to upload everything to 8tracks, right now. Maybe in time for the last chapter?


	5. finale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [Jackie](http://twobrokenwyngs.tumblr.com/) for looking this chapter over for me :)
> 
> Sorry this chapter is kind of short. I admittedly struggled to finish this but I find it hard to move on if I have a WIP left open _and_ I hate to leave readers hanging. But thank you to everyone who has read/commented/left kudos along the way! I totally bit off more than I could chew with this fic but I mostly had fun, at least. :)

The crowd's cheers fade to a dull buzz as Steve's blood roars in his ears, as his heart thuds harder and harder. He looks around the field but there's no sign of Billy. The Demogorgon Billy had stabbed is gone, too, blood and trampled grass the only sign they were ever there. 

'Where's Billy?' he says. 

No one answers him. 

Max is standing where Billy had been. She looks as tired as Steve is starting to feel, dishevelled and despondent, no victory in her slumped shoulders.

Steve goes over to her. It feels like someone else is moving his legs, like he's watching himself walk across the field. Like he's untethered from his body. But his stomach turns, every bone and muscle aches, his skin tender with bruises and abrasions now that the adrenaline from the rumble has worn off, and he sinks back down into himself with each step.

'Max,' Steve says and Max looks up, frowning, 'where's your brother?'

'He left.' Max scowls, but her voice is small and shattered.

Steve's pulse gives a little jolt. His hands are tingling. 'Where did he go?'

Max shakes her head. 'I don't know. I wanted to go with him but he made me stay.' Max wipes at her eyes and Steve realises she's crying.

'He's not coming back,' Steve says and it's not a question. His chest feels tight and hot. Max shakes her head again. Steve presses his lips together. 'What about the Demogorgon...the one Billy, uh...' 

'Some of the others took him.' Max bites her lip and her voice is lowered, watery, when she adds, 'I think he was dead.'

Steve's stomach pitches. 'Oh.'

Two shadows fall on the ground by Steve.

'Everything OK?' Nancy asks. She's holding Jonathan's hand, and she looks happy—they both do—but it's not the free kind of happy the kids wear. It's a jaded happiness. 

Steve sucks in a rattling breath. 'Billy left.'

'Oh,' Nancy says. She doesn't sound surprised, doesn't sound disappointed, doesn't sound like the world is turning both too fast and too slow around her.

Steve shakes himself. 'I need to find him.' He turns to Max and puts a hand on her shoulder. 'Where would he go?'

Max bites her lip. 'I don't know.'

'OK, OK. Well, he can't have gone far,' Steve says. He looks back to Jonathan and Nancy. 'Can you get everyone home?'

'Of course,' Jonathan says. The tilt of his mouth says he understands and it sets something loose in Steve.

'Thanks. Because I'm going to find Billy.'

'I'm coming with you,' Max says, all fire beneath her tears.

'You should go home with the others,' Steve says. He'd told Billy he would look after Max, and even if he doesn't find Billy, he's going to keep that promise.

'We'll all come,' Nancy says, though she sounds reluctant.

'No,' Steve says. 'I want—I need to do this alone.'

__

Steve's gut leads him across Hawkins, to the other side of town, where Metal Militia's headquarters are. Or were. Steve stands staring at the blackened, skeletal structure, which threatens to collapse in the light wind. Heat comes off of it in waves and Steve starts to sweat as he makes his way inside.

The air is thick and cloying, the greasy smoke from the recent fire catching in Steve's throat, filling his lungs. 

Billy is at the end of what was once a hallway, standing in a shaft of grey light pouring through the caved-in roof. Steve stops. His heart thuds and his blood prickles beneath his skin. His feet feel frozen in place. He shakes himself and gingerly steps over a fallen support beam. Billy doesn't turn as he approaches but Steve knows Billy can hear each and every one of his steps, crunching through the debris.

'Why did you leave?' Steve asks, as he stops a few feet from Billy. There is still blood in his mouth, at the back of his throat. 

Billy doesn't answer. Just toes at a lump of molten plastic that might have once been a boombox and says, 'I really fucked up this time.'

Steve reaches out for Billy but Billy shirks his touch. It burns.

A blistering wind blows through the remnants of the wall and Steve shivers, despite the heat. He hugs his arms around his middle and waits. Beams of morning light cast shadows over the ruins of what Steve thinks was a bedroom. 

Billy is breathing heavily, his shoulders tight. When he finally turns around, his eyes are glassy. 'Is that guy dead? The one who had the knife.'

Steve bites his lip. 'Yeah. I think so.'

Billy only nods, face pale and eyes dark.

Steve steps forward. 'Thank you,' he says. 

Billy's eyes widen. 'For _killing_ him?'

'For saving Dustin,' Steve says, feeling like an idiot. Feeling like whatever there is between the two of them is as fragile as the remains they stand in. 'For fighting with us. You could have left, like Tommy and Carol did.'

'They all left,' Billy says, voice bitter. 'The ones who...the ones who could.'

'I'm sorry,' Steve says. He can't imagine how Billy feels.

'I shouldn't have...' Billy trails off, doesn't finish his sentence. A tear rolls down his cheek and he wipes it away, smudging his face with dirt and soot. 'I should have listened to you, I guess.'

'You couldn't know...' Steve starts, but then he stops, too. They both knew what the Demogorgons were capable of.

'Fuck.' Billy kicks at a grimy chair. He kicks it again, then he picks it up and throws it. It shatters, but he doesn't seem satisfied. He kicks the molten lump of plastic, sending it careering across the room, smashes what's left of a mirror, pushes over a blackened bookcase.

Steve only steps forward when the bookcase crashes through a wall and grabs Billy's arm, saying, 'Hey, that's enough, it's OK.'

Billy throws Steve off and turns around, eyes blazing. 'It's not OK.'

'No, I know, I'm sorry,' Steve says, 'you've lost…a lot. But there's still The Party. You can join us. We're stronger together, anyway.'

'I don't need your pity, Harrington,' Billy spits. 

'It's not pity!'

'No?' Billy says, advancing on Steve. 'Wanna lord it over me, then? Have someone else to boss around?' He pokes a finger to Steve's chest.

Steve grabs his wrist. 'It's not like that. Maybe that's how your gang worked, but we're a family.' Steve winces as soon as the words leave his mouth. He's lost so much in his life, they all have, but Billy has lost more than Steve could ever imagine in the space of a day and Steve just threw it back in his face. He expects Billy to lash out again but instead he deflates.

He doesn't look at Steve when he says, 'I thought we were, too,' and Steve knows he's talking about Metal Militia.

'I'm so sorry,' Steve says, again, letting the words hang futilely in the air.

Billy shakes his head and turns away.

Silence falls as thick and impenetrable as the scent of smoke that still lingers. Steve doesn't know how to cut through it. Isn't sure what the right thing to say or do would be, right now. So he stands and waits.

But when minutes pass and Billy doesn't say anything, Steve says, 'C'mon. Let's go home,' holding out a hand.

'This is my home, don't you get it?' Billy says, voice hoarse and crackling. His shoulders sag. 'Was my home.' He runs his hands over his face. 'Fuck.'

Steve shakes his head. 'No.'

Billy blinks at him. 'No, what?'

'No. Max is your home.' Steve pushes his hair out of his face and sucks in a shaky breath. 'When I said you could join us, what I meant was, I was hoping I could...we could be your home, too.' 

Billy turns to him. 'Didn't seem that way after the rumble.'

Steve flushes with shame. 'I'm sorry,' he says, again. 'I didn't mean...I shouldn't have said what I did.'

Billy shrugs, all that fury from moments ago gone now. 'It's fine. I shouldn't have expected...' He shakes his head. 'Doesn't matter.'

'It does,' Steve says, emphatically, stepping closer to Billy. He curls his hands around Billy's elbows. 'You do.'

Billy stares up at Steve, bruised and tired and resigned. 'OK,' he says but he doesn't sound like he believes it.

'When I thought you were dead...' Steve leans their foreheads together, wills the image of Billy lying in the grass, unmoving, away. He sighs. Last night he would never have dreamt of saying this but today he knows Billy belongs with him, belongs with The Party. 'I couldn't...I just, I want you to come home with me. OK?'

'It's that easy, huh?' Billy says, turning his head but not pulling away. It gives Steve hope.

'No,' Steve says. There's no point in lying. It won't be easy, not for them. 'But do you want to come home with me?'

'Not like I've got anywhere else to go, is it?' Billy says, voice flat and careful.

The words sting but Steve realises, now, that Billy is only uncertain about his place and hiding it first behind anger and now indifference. Steve sighs and tilts Billy's chin up with two fingers so Billy is looking at him. He leans in, brushes his nose against Billy's. 'This isn't nothing,' Steve whispers against Billy's lips. He kisses him. 'You're not nothing.'

'OK,' Billy says, but this time like he believes it, or at least like he wants to, and kisses Steve deeply. He fists his hands in Steve's shirt, at his waist, pulling him as close as he can. 

Steve loses himself in the kiss until the building groans and then he reluctantly pulls away. He looks around, wary and eager to leave. 'Let's get out of here?'

'Yeah,' Billy says, still holding onto Steve. 'Let's go...home.'

Steve's heart leaps. 'Come on,' he says and disentangles himself. He takes Billy's hand and kisses it, feeling warmth flood his face, and then pulls on their joined hands, leading Billy out into the street.

The crisp wind is bracing after the polluted air inside and Steve sucks in a deep breath. He looks at Billy, and Billy looks at him. Steve nods and squeezes Billy's hand. As they walk away, hands clasped tight, the remains of Metal Militia's headquarters finally collapse with a thundering crash. Neither of them look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it's done!!! Finally. I didn't intend to take so long but I suppose these things happen :\
> 
> As always, you can find me on tumblr [@gothyringwald](http://gothyringwald.tumblr.com/) if you so wish :)
> 
> And ICYMI: there is [an edit for this fic here](http://gothyringwald.tumblr.com/post/169901724895/darklands-a-harringrove-au-when-the-world) and [a soundtrack here](http://gothyringwald.tumblr.com/post/176244703247/darklands-a-harringrove-au-spotify-8tracks), because I like to pretend my fics are movies :)


End file.
